Face the Music and Dance
by Penny-in-the-sky
Summary: It's time for mandatory dancing classes at Hogwart's, and the rhythmically challenged Ginny gets nervous about having to show her lack of skills to a certain person. **Complete**
1. Part 1

Author's note: Just a little something I felt like writing. Maybe it's been done before. If it has, I'm sorry. And maybe you find the prospect of dancing lessons at Hogwart's rather unlikely, but it was just an idea I had, and it refused to leave me, so I figured I should make it into a story.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Co belong to JK Rowling (in case anybody didn't know and thought I'd made them up). The song quote is from "Let's face the music and dance", written by Irving Berlin.

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****

~Face the Music and Dance~

*****

__

"There may be trouble ahead

But while there's music and moonlight and love and romance

Let's face the music and dance"

*****

"_Dancing _classes?"

Ginny stared at Colin Creevey, utterly bewildered. He looked back at her eagerly.

"Yes! Isn't it exciting?"

Ginny found she couldn't answer him. She was completely dumbfounded by this unexpected information.

It was after lunch that Colin had sought Ginny out, positively bubbling with excitement over something professor McGonnagall had talked about at the end of Transfiguration. Ginny had missed the last fifteen minutes or so of the class, as she'd been called by Madame Pince to the library for a quick briefing on what her duties as the students' literary consultant would be. It was a task Ginny had taken on the moment professor McGonnagall had asked her at the start of the term. Partly it was because it felt nice that the professor had thought of _her_, Ginny, when asked by Madame Pince to seek out someone suitable for the job. But mostly it was because Ginny absolutely adored the idea of getting to spend more time in the library, and she loved it even more if it meant she was there to do something meaningful, like help students who were looking for certain books or texts while studying.

The meeting had been over in half an hour, and afterwards, Ginny had headed off to the Great Hall for lunch, accompanied by Hermione, whom Ginny had found in the library, hunched over a frighteningly large book on weather spells. In the Great Hall, they'd met up with Ron, who was sulking over some comment professor Sprout had made on his general inability to gain the trust of flowers and plants. Hermione hadn't made him any less grumpy with her statement that plants were considered to be excellent judges of character. The two of them had bickered throughout the meal, and meanwhile Ginny had sat silent, her mind in a general state of wandering. Without giving it much thought, she'd let her eyes roam the Hall, and subconsciously noted that Harry was nowhere to be seen. She'd been about to ask Ron and Hermione about it, but they'd still been engaged in their fierce conversation, of which the topic now had changed from the care-taking of plants to Ron's discipline (or lack of it, rather) when it came to doing his homework. So Ginny had stored the question in the back of her mind, from where she could retrieve it at a more suitable time.

It was outside the Great Hall that Colin had come running up to her, rambling about professor McGonnagall and the information she'd dispensed at the end of Transfiguration. He'd been too excited to form any full sentences, but in the midst of the messily put together mass of words, Ginny had managed to make out something about dancing classes. And now here she was, trying to come up with some sort of response to Colin, who was looking at her expectantly.

"Colin, I…" she began, but didn't get any further. He kept looking at her, waiting for some sort of sign that his news had made her seethe with excitement and curiosity. She shook her head, so as to clear it, and tried again.

"Dancing classes, you say?"

He nodded eagerly, clearly relieved that she finally showed some sort of interest. "Yes! On Friday."

"But whatever for?" Ginny said. "Why do we have to take dancing classes?"

Colin shrugged. "Dunno. The professor didn't say. But _my_ guess--", and at this he lowered his voice as if he were about to dispense a confidential piece of information, "--is that they want us to practise for the Yule Ball."

"The _Yule _Ball?" Ginny exclaimed, incredulous. "But that's _ages_ away!"

Colin shrugged again. "Maybe they weren't pleased with the students' performances last year, and want us to be well-prepared this time."

"But why do we have to take _dancing classes?_" Ginny realised she was coming over all whiny, and knew Colin must be getting annoyed with her and her obvious lack of enthusiasm. But she couldn't help it. The memories of last year's Yule Ball were all too vivid in her mind. She and Neville had been equally terrible dancers, and she'd spent the whole night waiting for the teachers to announce the ball to be over, so she could go to bed and sleep away from all of it.

"Oh, come on, Ginny!" Colin said, starting to sound desperate. "It'll be fun! Professor McGonnagall told us we'll mostly be dancing wizard dances, but we might do some Muggle ones as well! There's one called the waltz, which is really elegant. It's usually danced at Muggle weddings."

This caught Ginny's attention. "Weddings?" she said, and Colin looked pleased at the sudden hint of interest in her voice.

"Yes! I danced it with my mum, when her sister got married. I can teach you if you want, it's really rather simple."

Ginny nodded absent-mindedly, and listened with half an ear as Colin proceeded with giving her a detailed account of his aunt's wedding. As he talked, Ginny let her mind wander.

Weddings. If there was something she had a weak spot for, it was weddings. Ever since she, at the age of three, had heard of her parents' marriage ceremony and seen pictures of them on their wedding day, she'd dreamt of the day she herself would get married, and what it would be like. She'd imagined the dress she would be wearing, what the cake would look like, which people she'd invite, and, most importantly, whom she'd be marrying.

These fantasies had appeared less frequently in her mind the past few years, what with all the drama going on around and inside her, but now that Colin mentioned weddings, she found herself once again fantasising about her own wedding day. She could see herself gracefully striding down the aisle, dressed in a beautiful, cream-coloured set of robes and carrying an armful of handpicked flowers. Her whole family was there; her mother and father, and every single one of her brothers, and they were all smiling at her, looking _so_ proud. Now Ginny looked behind her and met the eyes of her bridesmaid – Hermione. She looked beautiful, dressed in pale blue dress robes, and she tilted her head and smiled at Ginny, who then turned her head back to look at the man she was marrying.

Harry was waiting for her, looking like he always did, with tousled hair and round-rimmed spectacles, but the expression on his face was different. He looked a bit nervous, but also happy and at ease. He smiled at Ginny, and she smiled back.

Ginny found her heart was racing at the mere thought of receiving a smile from Harry, and silently cursed her stupid and hopelessly romantic self for allowing her mind to drift off like that. Her fantasising days were over; she was too old to be imagining her own wedding anymore. Especially if it meant she was marrying Harry. It was thoughts like those that she'd promised herself, at the end of her third year, never to allow into her mind again. They only ended up making her miserable, and misery was something she got enough of from other places, what with the current situation in the wizarding community.

She let out a small, involuntary sigh.

"Oh, sorry, am I boring you?"

Ginny's head snapped up. She'd forgotten Colin was there. "No, not at all!" she said hurriedly, adopting what she hoped was an expression of interest. "You were saying…?"

But apparently she wasn't all too convincing, because Colin frowned and picked up his book-bag, which he'd thrown on the floor in his previous state of excitement. "Never mind," he said. "I have to get going." Before Ginny could say anything further, he had left. 

She sighed to herself again. Brilliant. Absolutely wonderful. Not only had she allowed herself to once again fantasise stupidly about wedding days and beautiful dresses and Harry Potter; as if she were still that hopelessly romantic little girl she'd been during her first year at Hogwart's. She'd also managed to upset a classmate, which – even though it'd been completely unintentional – made her feel really guilty. She picked up her bag and started walking towards the stairway, but discovered her shoe-lace was untied and stooped down to tie it up, so as to avoid tripping herself over and being laughed at by all the fifth- and sixth-years that were strolling about the corridor at the moment.

When she was finished, she once again grabbed her bag and rose to continue her walk towards the stairs. Seeing as she was determined not to let her shoelace come undone again, she kept her eyes on her feet as she walked. As a result of this, she ended up crashing into the back of somebody who was standing a few feet away from the staircase.

Startled, Ginny took a step back, just as the person she'd knocked into turned to see who his attacker was.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Ginny breathed, then felt her heart virtually stop beating as she looked up into the bewildered, green eyes of Harry Potter.

"Ginny?" he said, frowning. And Ginny found she couldn't speak. She stood rooted to the spot, her mouth opening and closing like that of a stranded fish, as she searched her mind for something clever to say. But nothing came. Harry kept looking at her, probably waiting for an excuse or an explanation, or at least a spoken word of some sort.

Ginny swallowed, her heart racing. "Um, I…" she managed, but then her throat went all tight again and she couldn't get anything more out.

"Would you like to use the stairs?" Harry knitted his brows, clearly puzzled by her silence.

"Yes, please," she said in a tiny voice, feeling the blood which had drained from her face a moment ago now rush back at a dangerous speed. Not giving any further word of explanation, just wishing to get as far away from there as possible, Ginny took her flushed face and hammering heart and started making her way up the stairs. She'd gotten no longer than five steps when she was stopped by somebody speaking her name. Slowly, and as gracefully as she possibly could in her current state, she turned around and looked down at Harry. He was looking back up at her, and she had to use every ounce of self-control she possessed to keep her eyes locked with his.

"Yes?" she queried, glad her voice didn't insist on cracking at the short word.

He reached up to set his glasses straight, then placed one hand on his head and another on his hip. "Did you hear about the dancing classes?"

The dancing classes. She'd forgotten about those. "Yes, just now, actually," she said, and then she had to break eye contact for a moment, for fear of her voice failing her. When she glanced back, she found he was still looking at her, so she shifted her gaze to her shoes. But then she reminded herself that her swooning days were over, and took a deep breath before turning her head up to meet his eyes.

Harry seemed unfazed by her many head movements, or if he was, he didn't show it. "We heard about it this morning."

Ginny nodded. "Oh?" she said lamely.

"Yeah. Me and Ron thought about skipping them, but then Hermione kindly informed us that we better not, seeing as they're mandatory and all."

Ginny smiled in spite of her nervousness, imagining Hermione's face when Ron and Harry started talking about cutting class. "So you don't like dancing?" she asked, amazed at how she managed to get a full sentence out without choking on her own words.

Harry shrugged. "I don't mind it," he said. "It's just, the idea of _dancing classes_…"

"I know what you mean," Ginny said. "It's a bit silly."

"Yeah, a bit."

There was a pause, and Ginny found her moment of inner calm was over. Her heart started beating faster again, and she searched her mind for something clever to say. But before she could get anything out, Harry checked his watch.

"Damn," he muttered, then looked up at her again. "I better get going. Snape won't let me hear the end of it I'm late for Potions. Neither will Hermione, for that matter."

Ginny motioned with a shaking hand up the stairs. "Yeah, I should… too."

Harry nodded. "So, I'll see you around." And before Ginny could answer, he'd disappeared down the hallway.

Ginny sighed deeply and squeezed her eyes shut. Typical. How _very_ typical. Just when she'd thought she was _finally_ getting over Harry Potter, he showed up right in front of her, all sociable and nice and… _wonderfully Harry-like,_ and she could do little but fall right back into her old habit of fantasising and swooning and being all-around girlishly silly. Well, old habits die hard, she told herself.

As do old crushes.

Clutching the shoulder strap of her bag, she started making her way up the stairs, head hanging heavily.

*****

"Oh, isn't it terribly exciting?"

Hermione's eyes positively shone as she leaned over the table, closer to Ginny, clearly expecting her friend to take part in her giddiness.

Ginny shrugged and served herself some potatoes. "I guess. A bit."

Hermione frowned, obviously having expected something a bit more enthusiastic. "A bit?" she echoed.

Ginny shrugged again. "I don't know. I just can't seem to work myself up as much about it as everyone else is doing."

"But Ginny, it's dancing classes! How can you not be excited? They'll be having a live band there, and we're allowed to dress up if we want to, and…"

"Oh, don't tell me you're talking about those bloody dancing classes again."

The two girls looked up in time to see Ron seat himself by the table right next to them. He immediately filled his plate with food and dug in. "A daft idea is what it is, if you ask me," he continued through a mouth full of mashed potatoes and stew.

"Well, nobody's asking you, Ron," Hermione said testily. "And don't talk with food in your mouth."

Ron grunted something inaudible in reply, then continued his meal in silence, allowing Hermione to turn her attention back to Ginny.

"So you're really not looking forward to it? Not even the slightest?"

"No, not really," Ginny said honestly, having tired of trying to keep up an excited facade. The dancing classes were all people had been talking about ever since she got back from lunch, and, frankly, she was rather fed up with the mere thought of them. The girls in her class had chattered and giggled and shot looks at the boys all afternoon, whilst she herself had done her homework and tried to avoid any type of conversation, knowing it would only lead to talk of the stupid dancing classes. 

Hermione looked at Ginny, with an almost concerned look in her eyes. "Alright, then," she said, clearly not understanding how Ginny could be so unenthusiastic about such an event. She turned to Ron, who'd already finished his food and was presently serving himself a second helping.

"Where's Harry?" she asked, and it was first then that Ginny noted Harry's absence.

Ron topped his already cluttered plate off with a spoonful of peas. "Quidditch-practice, I think. He said he'd be coming in a little later tonight."

Harry had been made captain of the Quidditch team this year, and he took his job quite seriously. If he wasn't holding a team practice, he was out on the field by himself, polishing his flying-techniques and maintaining his broom, as he put it.

Ron raised his fore-finger, a sign that he was about to say something, then shoved a forkful of food into his mouth. As he chewed, he waggled his finger, preparing to speak, but Hermione beat him to it.

"Ron, don't you dare utter a single word with all that food in your mouth."

Ron glared at her, but obeyed – something that made Ginny turn her head away with a smile – and swallowed before he spoke.

"Is it alright if I talk now?" he asked and scowled at Hermione. She nodded and waved her hand, motioning for him to go ahead.

"Right. So anyway, speaking of Harry – which we _were_ doing at the time when I was interrupted--", here Hermione received yet another glare, "--I thought it was sort of interesting to hear what he had to say about these stupid dancing classes everyone's going on about."

Ginny subconsciously sharpened her ears at this.

"Oh?" Hermione said. "And what did he have to say, then?"

Ron took a big gulp of his drink before continuing. "Well, I don't remember _exactly,_ but when I pointed out to him, right after we heard about it, what a stupid and bloody useless idea it really was--", at this, Hermione snorted in disapproval, "--he just stood there. You know, not agreeing with me. So I said it again, just to make sure he'd heard me, and then he said something like "I don't really mind it." So I told him yet _again _how stupid dancing is, and I also reminded him of how little he enjoyed last year's Yule Ball. But he still didn't seem to quite get what a ridiculous idea it all was. And _then_ he said – and this really made me rather worried – that he was sort of looking _forward_ to it! Would you _believe_ that?"

"Yes, I would actually," Hermione said. "It makes sense that Harry wouldn't be as quick to condemn it as you were."

Ron shot her a glare. "Well, hopefully he'll soon come to his senses and see it for what it really is."

Hermione crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Oh, really? And what is that, then?"

Ron shrugged. "A waste of perfectly good studying hours." He glanced up at Hermione, who was about to deliver a comeback, but couldn't seem to find any words. He pointed at her, triumphant. "Ha! You can hardly argue with that, now can you?"

Hermione scowled at him and put her nose in the air. "Oh, Ron, as if you're not _absolutely thrilled _we'll be missing classes because of this."

Ron shrugged. "Can't say I'm not. But I'd rather we'd miss classes because of something a little less stupid and pointless."

"Well, it looks like you're the only one with that opinion," Hermione said. "Not even Harry agrees with you, and that says something, seeing as the two of you are practically joint at the hip when it comes to everything else."

"Harry will come to his senses," Ron repeated. "You just wait and see."

"Did he really seem like he was looking forward to it?" Ginny asked, joining in on the conversation for the first time.

Ron looked at her, surprised. He seemed to have forgotten she was even there. "Uh… what do you mean, Gin?"

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know. It just seems a bit strange, 'cause to me he said he didn't really like the idea, and that the two of you had thought about skipping it."

Ron stared at her, incredulous. "_You _had a conversation with _Harry?_"

Ginny felt her face go hot. It hadn't seemed strange when she'd said it, but now she saw how peculiar it must seem to Ron and Hermione. "No, not really," she mumbled, looking away. "We just talked for a bit."

"Talked for a bit?" Ron echoed. "Isn't that pretty much the definition of a conversation?"

Ginny felt her face go even redder.

"Ron," Hermione said sternly, then turned to Ginny. "Harry never said anything about skipping the dancing classes." 

"Really?" Ginny asked, struggling to return her face to it's normal colour.

"Yes," Hermione said, before looking at Ron disapprovingly. "It was only your brother who considered doing that."

Ron immediately shot something back at her about how he couldn't see who would possibly care whether he attended the bloody classes or not, and the two of them bickered on throughout the rest of the meal, leaving Ginny to her own thoughts. She sat, chin in hand, and wondered why it was that Harry had seemed so unenthusiastic about the dancing classes when she'd met him, yet told Ron he was more or less in favour of the idea. 

But she came up with no answer, and when the three of them rose to return to the Gryffindor common room, Harry still hadn't returned from his practice.

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A/N: This was chapter one of two. At first this story was supposed to be just one part, but then it became a bit longer than I thought, plus I really really really felt like posting something, so I decided to post it as two parts. I'm working on the final part at the moment, and it's as good as finished, so it should be up in a couple of days (note "should": I can make no promises, my inspiration insists on abandoning me at times). Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, and please leave a quick review to let me know what you thought!


	2. Part 2

Author's note: So here's part two. I know, it's been an awfully long "couple of days", but as I said, I don't always feel inspired to write; I sort of have to wait for the words… Anyway, I hope you enjoy this part as well. It was pretty difficult to write, I don't know why. Maybe because this is my first H/G fic, and I haven't really gotten used to writing about them yet. One more thing before you begin reading: I have no idea who the other girls in Ginny's dormitory are, or what they're called, so I just made up a few names. Hope you don't mind…

Disclaimer: See previous instalment.

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On Friday, Ginny woke up to the sound of girls giggling hysterically. Although wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep, she forced herself to get out of bed. She was met by Emily and Bridget, already dressed and presently busy with fixing each other's hair in front of the mirror.

"Oh, good morning, Ginny," Bridget said cheerfully. "Sleep well?"

Ginny blinked, attempting to get the sleep out of her eyes. "More or less. Why are you dressed already?"

"Oh, Ginny, don't tell us you've _forgotten?_" Emily said, not for a moment taking her eyes away from her own reflection as Bridget fussed with her hair. 

Ginny frowned. "Forgotten what?"

At this, both girls turned and stared at Ginny, identical looks of utter disbelief on their faces.

"_Ginny!_" Emily said shrilly. "It's _Friday!_"

Ginny searched her mind, which had yet to fully wake up, for something big that was scheduled to happen today, but found nothing. "Yes?" she said. "And?"

Bridget looked about ready to faint. "Ginny! Today we're having the dancing classes! How could you _possibly _have forgotten?"

Ginny froze. _The dancing classes_. They were _today!_ As strange as it must seem to her two classmates, she had indeed forgotten about them. Or, more like, repressed the fact that she'd ever even known about them.

"Oh," she breathed, a small ball of anxiety dropping into her stomach.

"Exactly," Emily said, mistaking Ginny's unsettled "oh" for one of excitement. "And supposedly, we'll be having them with the _fifth-years_, so me and Bridget want to look our _absolute _best, what with the Yule Ball coming up and all. You should think about that too, Ginny. If you want a good date for the Ball, you better start trying to make an impression already."

After having dispensed these, in her eyes, golden words of advice, Emily turned back to study her reflection, and Bridget continued picking up strands of her hair and trying out suitable positions for them on her head.

Ginny slowly got dressed, a feeling of dread growing inside of her. She hadn't thought about the dancing classes at all the past few days, and now that she was suddenly reminded of them, she found that they were something she'd much rather be without.

She didn't know what it was that suddenly made her so nervous. Maybe it was the fact that she hardly considered herself to be a good dancer, and that she usually had problems getting the steps right. Maybe it was the thought of dancing under the supervising eyes of the teachers, and having them see every wrong turn she made and every foot she stepped on.

Or maybe it was the sudden revelation that they might be – no, supposedly _would_ be – joined by the fifth-years as they were taught how to dance.

Ginny's mind suddenly filled with images of possible ways in which she could embarrass herself while dancing today. In front of the fifth-years. In front of Ron and Hermione.

In front of Harry.

At this thought, her stomach tied itself up into nice, big knot and her heart started beating faster.

__

Harry would be there. He would be there to see every stupid little mistake she made, he would watch while she tripped and teetered and blushed at her own lack of co-ordination, and she might even… 

Oh, goodness, goodness,_ no_. No no no.

She might even have to dance with _him._

Ginny closed her eyes and shook her head fiercely, even though she was the only one around to see it. Dancing with Harry Potter was the _last _thing she wanted to do right now, and she shuddered at the mere thought of there being a possibility she would have to do so _today._ If she would even get within a ten-foot distance of him, she would find herself falling right back into her old habit of swooning and blushing and dreaming silly, girlish dreams. As had been the case earlier this week, when the two of them had met by the stairs. And she didn't want that. She didn't want to become the silly little girl she'd been as late as last year. She had changed, become older, and the new, wiser Ginny didn't waste any time on daydreams.

But crush-weaning took time, and she'd learned a few days ago that Harry Potter was still perfectly capable of making her knees go weak. It had made her come to the conclusion that she had to keep away from him for some time, and avoid bumping into him. That way she'd slowly but surely eliminate the risk of any ridiculous, romantic thoughts or fantasies sneaking their way into her head.

But it would be a bit hard to avoid bumping into him if they were stuck in the same room for several hours, supposed to be socialising and having a good time. She could hardly _ignore_ him, seeing as they were more or less acquainted. Yet she could hardly _socialise_ with him either.

Ginny sighed. _She _wouldn't be having a good time today. That was one thing that was certain.

With a heavy heart and a muddled mind she left the dormitory and made her way downstairs.

*****

"Oh, this is unbe_liev_ably exciting!"

Ginny rolled her eyes as Emily for the umpteenth time declared her enthusiasm in a high-pitched voice. She was standing with her class-mates and the rest of the fourth-years outside the closed doors of the Great Hall, waiting to be let inside. They'd waited for a good fifteen minutes already, and apparently the teachers were a bit behind schedule. Professor McGonnagall had arrived some five minutes ago, looking quite flustered, and mumbling something about everything being ready soon, before opening one of the doors a crack and sneaking in. This had, of course, prompted Emily and Bridget to, in high spirits, discuss _what _exactly the professor had meant with "everything", and didn't it sound a lot as if there was a surprise planned for them all?

Just as Emily opened her mouth to let them all know that she was _still_ awfully excited, the doors swung open to reveal Dumbledore. His hands were behind his back and the ever-present mirthful glint in his eyes seemed, to Ginny, even more evident today.

"Welcome, all of you," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "As you all know, you are about to take part in something which has never before taken place at Hogwart's."

At this, Emily clapped a hand over her mouth, but couldn't stop an excited shriek from escaping her lips. Dumbledore looked in her direction and chuckled.

"Judging by Miss Winston's excitement, I trust you all know which event I am referring to. But, should so be the case that there is somebody who, against all odds, _hasn't _heard of it, I will inform him or her now."

He made a pause, in which he leaned his head back and peered down at them through his crescent-shaped spectacles.

"Today you will be given dancing classes in preparation of the forthcoming Yule Ball. This is due to the fact that there were far too many students who, at last year's Ball, insisted on remaining in their seats, alternatively populating the far ends of the room, whilst the music played, and therefore missed out on the fun the rest of us had while dancing. By taking it upon ourselves to teach you the basics of common dancing, me and my fellow staff-members dearly hope that we at this year's Ball will get to see every one of you up on the dance floor. So, without further ado, I bid you welcome to the first, annual Yule Ball Preparation Event."

At this, he stepped aside and motioned for them to enter the Great Hall, and they did so; slowly and tentatively, as if fearing what they might find there.

Ginny's first thought was that they must've really put a lot of effort into this. As her fellow class-mates oooh-ed and aaah-ed, pointing out specific things to one another, she took a few steps into the room, then stood on the spot, eyeing her surroundings.

The Great Hall had been decorated from floor to ceiling. Covering the walls were large, velvet drapes in the different house-colours, and the tables had been banished to one end of the room, leaving a large, open floor space. In the place commonly occupied by the teachers' table there had been set up a small stage, where a number of men and women dressed in fancy robes were chatting with each other, whilst holding their instruments. Right below the stage stood a group of sixth- and seventh-years – remainders of the classes which had been here during the morning hours.

"They've done a great job, don't you think?"

Ginny turned to see Colin standing next to her.

"Yes," she said. "I must admit it looks rather lovely."

The doors opened then and the fifth-years filed in. Hermione was the first to enter and took in the scenery with a wide, giddy smile. She spotted Ginny and made her way over to her.

"Hello!" she said happily, then noticed Colin. Apparently his enervating camera antics during Ginny's and his first year were still fresh in Hermione's memory. She eyed him critically before acknowledging him with a curt nod.

"We were just saying what a wonderful job they've done," Ginny said. "They must really have put a lot of time and effort into this."

Hermione nodded eagerly. "Yes, it's absolutely beautiful! I just can't _wait _to start, can you?"

But Ginny found she couldn't answer, because at that very moment Ron entered the Great Hall, and by his side was Harry -- looking worn, a bit suspicious and so much like himself that it made Ginny's breath catch in her throat. It was all she could do not to slap herself for falling back into her old ways so easily, but she found it was impossible for her to look away. Her eyes were somehow glued to his face, and were pulled along as he and Ron took a few steps into the room, allowing the remaining students to come in.

Just as she silently told herself that she _definitely _had to look away now, he turned his head slightly and for one tenth of a second, their eyes met. Ginny felt her stomach go completely warm, then quickly looked away, blushing furiously. Why, why, why must she _always _be so obvious? Now he knew she'd been looking at him, _studying_ him even. Could it get any worse?

It was Hermione that saved her from melting into a little puddle of embarrassment right there on the floor. Seemingly oblivious to Ginny's mental drifting-off, she began a discussion with her and Colin on whether or not this event should be mandatory. Hermione, of course, thought it should be, as it opened the students' eyes to art and culture, while Colin – despite his own appreciation of the idea – believed it would be better if it were optional, seeing as those who didn't enjoy dancing would hardly change their minds after just a few lessons held in school. Ginny stayed relatively silent during the debate, only inserting the odd comment here and there, when she felt it was expected of her to speak.

Just as Hermione was in the middle of stating the importance of teaching children, at an early age, to conserve cultural heritages, professor McGonnagall cleared her throat, demanding their attention. The room went quiet.

"Now that everyone is here," the professor said, "I would like to once again welcome you all to this event. The dancing classes, which will commence momentarily, are – as you all know – mandatory, which means that anybody who is _not_ here today, and has no legitimate reason as to why he or she is absent, will be sought out and… questioned."

At this, Ginny saw Colin widen his eyes, and she understood how he felt. Professor McGonnagall was quite talented when it came to sounding intimidating.

"Now," the professor continued, "We ask of you to split up in two groups. Girls, gather over here, and boys, over by the stage, and you will all soon be paired up with a dancing partner."

Ginny walked with a heavy heart and accompanied by an excited Hermione towards the girls' assigned assembling spot, wondering how she would get herself through this day.

***** 

Sighing dejectedly, Ginny looked up at the large clock on the wall.

Thirty more minutes. Just thirty more minutes, then this torture would be over.

For the past two and a half hours, she'd tripped, stumbled and excused herself through no less than twelve different dances, each proving to be harder than the previous one. The Billywig Boogie, which they'd just completed, had included a near impossible step, where she – in an exceptionally dramatic spin – had just about severed the leg of her dance partner (a skinny, fifth-year Hufflepuff boy named Lucas) with her own foot. He now sat on the floor, clutching his knee and moaning in agony while Madame Pomfrey checked the lower part of his leg with gentle fingers. Ginny didn't really know how to help, so she just stood next to them, feeling more than a little stupid, and highly aware of the fact that people around them were watching and snickering. She could only hope and pray that Ron hadn't seen any of it; if he had she would surely be hearing about it for the rest of her adolescent years.

Then a thought struck her and she went cold all over.

What if Harry had seen? Her face burned at the mere thought of it, and she quickly scanned her closest surroundings for any bespectacled, messy-haired boys. When she found none, she breathed a silent sigh of relief and fixed her gaze on the floor, urging her face to return to its normal colour.

She had actually managed to avoid bumping into Harry today. She'd hardly even seen him. A few times while waiting in between songs, she'd caught sight of him in the crowd, chatting with his dance partner or other people nearby. Once she'd seen him standing completely still, his head tilted upwards and his gaze fixed on the ceiling, and if she, at that moment, had been offered to have a single wish granted, it would have been to find out what was on Harry Potter's mind – such distance was in his eyes, such ease in his posture. She'd paused, stood dead still, and allowed her eyes to linger on him for a moment or two. It was against the stop-caring-about-Harry-Potter-resolution she'd made to herself to study him like that, but she couldn't help it. Her eyes were locked on him. Plus, she figured she was worth it, considering the ordeals she'd been through while dancing. 

Beside her, Madame Pomfrey had finished her examination of Lucas's leg.

"Stand up," she said and Lucas laboriously obeyed. "Now, take care not to put too much weight on it. And try to avoid any further, violent encounters with your dance partner." She smiled expressively at Ginny, who looked at the floor, face glowing with mortification. Then she hurried off to tend to a girl with a sprained ankle. Ginny was glad she wasn't the only one causing accidents. She turned to Lucas.

"I'm terribly sorry," she said. "Does it hurt much?"

Lucas attempted a smile, but it only looked like a grimace. "No, no, not at all," he said in a strained voice. Despite the obvious lie, it was sweet of him to try to make her feel better, and it made her feel a bit less stupid. They chatted for a while about the events of the day, then fell silent along with the rest of the students as professor Dumbledore stepped up onto the stage.

"Well," the headmaster began, waiting for the last couple of chattering students to quiet down. "First of all, I must say how pleasant it has been to see so many of you here today. We have only had to put down a few students for… "seeking out and questioning", as professor McGonnagall put it."

A soft murmur went through the mass of students as they wondered who these few, poor people were who would be subjected to McGonnagall's rather terrifying methods of interrogation.

Dumbledore motioned for them to settle down. "Now. As I'm sure all of you are aware of, we have today gone through a number of the wizarding world's most popular dances, and hopefully had a great deal of fun doing so. But – as I'm sure all of you agree with me on – this school would not be what it is today if it weren't for all our Muggle-born students, bringing cultural multiplicity to Hogwart's and, well, spicing things up a bit."

Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw Draco Malfoy pretend to vomit, while Crabbe and Goyle looked on, sniggering. If Dumbledore saw this, he gave it no attention.

"So," the headmaster continued, "We have therefore decided on not only dancing wizarding dances today, but also trying a Muggle one."

At this, Ginny saw several students raise their eyebrows, astonished, as if the prospect of Muggles having dances of their own was utterly absurd. Dumbledore took no notice of this. Instead he proceeded with instructing them to pair up, to the largest possible extent, so that Muggle-born students would be dancing with students not familiar with Muggle dances. At these words, there was a minor commotion as girls and boys hurried to find themselves a dancing partner. Ginny watched Hermione grab a bewildered Ron by the arm and pull him out on the dance-floor. Then she craned her neck, trying to spot Colin in the crowd. After having heard the story of his aunt's wedding, she figured he was bound to know whichever Muggle dance they were going to dance.

But Colin was nowhere to be seen. Ginny frowned. Thinking that perhaps he had gone to sit down for a while, she turned around, and found herself standing face to face with Harry Potter.

Ginny's heart almost stopped beating. Where had he come from? She hadn't seen him standing anywhere nearby. After having made sure, all day long, that she was at a safe distance from him, how could she have let him come so close without even noticing it?

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but found she couldn't speak. Instead she just stood there, a mere ten inches from the boy she so desperately wanted to avoid, and silently cursed her stupid, stupid heart for beating so fast.

It was Harry who spoke first.

"Hi," he said simply, but it was enough to make Ginny blush, and subsequently hate herself. Not trusting her voice to deliver a proper greeting in return, she settled on giving him a quick nod.

"So…" Harry looked around, before returning his gaze back to Ginny. "Wanna dance?"

At this, Ginny's stomach deftly tied itself up into a knot. Dance? Her? _With him?_

When she didn't answer immediately, Harry looked a bit troubled. Shifting his weight from one foot to another, he looked away. "I mean, you don't _have _to, I just figured… Well, seeing as I'm, you know, Muggle-born, and you… aren't…"

Ginny could see he was getting desperate, but she still wasn't able to speak. Harry looked at her, almost pleading. "And they told us to pair up so that one in each pair would know the dance, and…"

It was first now that Ginny found her voice. "Alright," she said, struggling to get rid of the strange thickness in her throat. "I'll dance with you."

She was aware of the fact that it sounded as if agreeing to dance with him was an act of great self-sacrifice, and she could see that was how he'd taken it. "I mean, I'd be delighted to," she hurriedly added in one breath, and hoped that he didn't think that made her sound _too _eager.

"Okay," Harry said, and gave her an almost imperceptible smile, but it was enough to make her stomach lurch. She looked down, fixing her gaze on her feet, and wondered how on earth she was going to get herself through this. If she were to dance with Harry, it was rather inevitable that they'd, well… _touch_, and considering how he was perfectly capable of making her weak at the knees just by walking into the same room as her, she dared not even think about what would happen if he actually _touched _her.

Ginny glanced up at Harry. He was looking out over the mass of students with his arms crossed. She looked at some of the other couples who were waiting for the music to start. They were chatting with each other, joking and laughing as if it were no big deal at all. 

Oh, how she wished she could do the same.

Well, maybe she could, she suddenly thought to herself. Harry was her brother's best friend, nothing more, and why should it be impossible for her to talk to him? If she really wanted to get over him, she would have to stop letting him get to her. She would have to be cool, indifferent. Act as if his presence didn't really bother her at all.

Taking a deep breath and gathering courage, she turned to Harry. He was still looking out at the crowd.

"So, what do you think of this?" she asked, struggling to sound casual.

At first she thought he hadn't heard, and she was just about to repeat the question, when he turned and looked at her.

__

Act cool, she silently ordered herself when his intense, green eyes locked with hers.

"Sorry?" he asked.

She cleared her throat. "This. The dancing. What do you think of it?"

He looked away and tilted his head, as if giving serious thought to her question. "I don't know," he finally answered. "I guess…"

He turned to look at her again. "I guess I think it's an interesting idea."

It was a rather curious answer, and it puzzled Ginny quite a lot. _Interesting idea? _In what way? 

But she had no time to ask him what he really meant, because at that moment Dumbledore once again, from the stage, motioned for them to settle down.

"Well," the headmaster began as the last few students fell silent. "It appears as if you have all been paired up properly. For those pairs in which neither party is a Muggle-descendant, we have a number of teachers who have been practising Muggle dances for weeks on end, just to be able to help you out."

Ginny suddenly felt very grateful for having Harry to dance with. The mere thought of having to receive dancing-help from a _teacher _made her cheeks flush.

"Now," Dumbledore continued, "the band will begin playing a famous piece of music by a renowned Muggle composer. Those of you who recognise it should also be able to say which dance it's associated with. Maybe there are even a few of you who know the dance. If there are, try as well as you can to instruct your partners how to dance it. For those of you who do not know the dance, please await assistance. Or, if you do not have the patience to wait for us teachers to help you, try to follow those who know the dance. Hopefully, we will see all of you actively participating within less than ten minutes."

This goal seemed a tad bit optimistic to Ginny, as she saw the confused and anxious faces of many of the students. Once again she found herself feeling grateful that she _did_ have a Muggle-born dance partner. Even if it was Harry Potter. At least she wouldn't have to make a fool out of herself in front of the teachers.

Somewhat elated by this fact, she turned to look at Harry, the knot in her stomach loosening slightly. He looked back at her, semi-smiling the way he did, and it only gave her stomach an insignificant swarm of butterflies.

"So," he said. "You ready?"

Ginny found herself smiling back at him, rather carelessly, and was immensely proud of herself for managing to not act silly. "As ready as can be."

At that moment, the band started playing. It was a pleasant, light-hearted musical piece with a pretty string section, which Ginny faintly recognised. She glanced at Harry. His hands were on his hips and there was a strange look on his face.

"On the beautiful, blue Danube," he muttered.

Ginny frowned, puzzled. "I'm sorry… what?"

He turned to look at her. "I knew it!" he said, and a small smile formed on his lips. "I _knew _this would be it!"

Ginny shook her head, perplexed. "I'm sorry, but… you knew _what _would be it?"

"Oh, right," Harry said and reached up to straighten his glasses. "I'm sorry. What I mean is… I know this. This piece."

Ginny nodded. "Well, that's good. Very good. And do you know the dance as well?" Inwardly she marvelled at her cool, and made a mental note to immortalise this fantastic progress in her diary later on.

Harry nodded, with an almost childish eager that made Ginny feel like reaching out and stroking his cheek. But naturally, she didn't. Instead she raised her eyebrows, silently urging him to go on.

"It's a waltz," Harry said.

"A waltz?"

Ginny furrowed her brow. It sounded oddly familiar. Then realisation dawned on her. Wasn't that the dance that Colin had told her about, the one he'd danced at his aunt's wedding? She looked up at Harry.

"I think I've heard of it," she said.

He nodded. "So, you wanna give it a try?"

Did she want to give it a try? She glanced around, finding that a few of the other couples had already begun dancing. It didn't look all too complicated. But, then again, she knew she was perfectly capable of messing up even the easiest of dances. This day had taught her as much.

"Alright," she said uncertainly and watched as a pair of fifth-years, who seemed to have gotten the hang of it, twirled by gracefully. She would _never _be able to dance like that. She turned back to Harry, meaning to comment on how quickly the couple had learned the dance, but didn't have time to say anything, because at that moment he grabbed her hand in his and sneaked his other arm around her waist, pulling her close.

Everything inside of Ginny stopped, including her heart. Her mouth fell open and she raised her eyes, only to find that her face was mere inches from Harry's.

"Sorry," he muttered and looked away, blushing. "But we have to be close."

Close. They had to be close. And close they were indeed. She could feel his warmth all over her body; and the small of her back, where his hand was resting, was practically burning. His other hand, holding hers, was wonderfully warm and just the right size, thereby making their clasped hands fit perfectly in each other. Yes, they were close. And it felt a bit too nice to be comfortable.

Ginny swallowed hard and felt her heart start beating again. A little too fast. She had to say something. Now. Or else this would become painfully awkward.

"So, what now?" she managed, not daring to look up at him.

"Well," he began, his voice sounding oddly constrained. "You have to place your hand on my shoulder."

"Oh." She slowly lifted her free hand, cursing herself for not being able to stop it from trembling, and placed it on his shoulder. When she relaxed her arm - as much as she possibly could in her present state - she could feel the outline of his collarbone through his robes. For some reason this made her heart flutter.

"And now?" she asked, aware of the fact that her voice must sound terribly breathy.

Harry shifted the hand on her back slightly, making her shiver. "Well, the tempo is three beats to a measure of music, so if you just follow my lead and count one-two-three, we'll…"

"Wait, what are the steps?" Though Ginny had little faith she would actually learn the steps, she felt she should at least give it a try.

"They're not difficult," Harry said. "Just try and follow my lead."

"Follow your lead?" she echoed. "You obviously haven't seen me following my other partner's lead today, or else you wouldn't sound so confident I'll manage it."

"I _am _confident you'll manage it."

She ignored the warmth his words caused in her stomach, and raised her eyebrows. "Harry, I nearly broke his leg."

"Oh, really?" he asked, amused. "And what had the poor fellow done to deserve such treatment?"

Ginny blushed. "Nothing. It was my fault, and it just goes to prove what a terrible dancer I am."

"I don't believe you," Harry said, giving her a small smile. "You've just never been taught properly. Now, come on."  
And with that he began dancing, bringing her along with him as he skilfully managed the steps. At first, she was so concerned with how her feet were moving that she was sure she'd trip at any moment, but it wasn't long before her moves and posture became more relaxed. She hardly had to think at all about where she put her feet, it just happened. Amazed, she looked up at Harry.

"I'm dancing," she stated, without thinking, then blushed at the obviousness of her comment. But Harry just gave her one of those half-smiles and nodded.

"Piece of cake, right?"

"Well, I don't know about that," she said. "But at least I'm not terrified I'll injure you anymore."

"I'm glad to hear that."

They fell silent as they went on dancing. Ginny found herself feeling more and more relaxed in the arms of Harry, and let him guide her across the floor of the Great Hall, as she watched some of the other couples. She felt strangely proud when she saw that there was a great deal of couples who were having problems with the dance, and had to be aided by teachers. _She _didn't need any help, she was already dancing. With Harry. And they were doing pretty well too, judging by the approving look professor McGonnagall gave them as they danced past her and the two fourth-years she was attempting to instruct.

"Hey, look at that," Harry suddenly said in a low voice. Ginny turned in the direction he was looking, and giggled when she saw what he meant. Ron and Hermione were standing opposite each other, positioned as if they were to begin dancing, but both with looks of extreme irritation on their faces. Clearly, Hermione was trying to instruct Ron how to dance, and making him rather annoyed in the process.

"I can just imagine what they sound like right now," Harry said, before lowering his voice into a pretty good imitation of Ron's. "'Oh, lay off it, Hermione. I don't see why you think it's so important for me to learn this bloody dance.'"

Ginny laughed, and played along. "'Oh, _honestly, _Ron,'" she said, sounding exasperated and highly Hermione-like. "'I don't see why you think dancing is so stupid!'"

"'Well, Hermione, only _girls _like dancing,'" Harry continued, clearly having trouble keeping a straight face. "'I'd rather do something cool and manly, like go on a three-day hike in the Forbidden Forest, or lift a bunch of heavy rocks.'"

At this, Ginny burst out laughing, and she lifted the hand resting on Harry's shoulder and clapped it over her mouth, trying to hinder too much sound from coming out. Harry was laughing as well, and Ginny could feel his low laugh vibrate in his chest. For some reason this made her feel desperate to return her hand to his shoulder, to feel the warmth there again, and as she did so, he adjusted his hand on her back, and was it just her imagination or did he pull her a bit closer?

No, it was just her imagination, she quickly told herself as her heart started speeding up in that familiar fashion. So far, everything had gone above expectations, and she mustn't let him start getting to her _now, _when she'd come so far and there was so little time left of the dancing classes. Maybe she should createsome distance between them. Just to be on the safe side.

"Could we… Could we sit down for a bit?"

Harry looked down at Ginny, surprised. "Don't you want to dance anymore?"

"Well, no," she lied. The truth was she _did _want to dance more. She'd had a great time, and felt a bit too comfortable in Harry's arms to want to leave. But staying there could prove to be too dangerous. If he did or said one more sweet, funny or characteristic thing, she might just go right back to where she'd been last year, in that silly, swooning place, and that was a risk she mustn't take. She'd come too far.

Harry looked a bit disappointed, and let both his hands drop to his sides, inadvertently causing Ginny's heart to ache in a strange manner. The hand that had been holding Harry's now seemed terribly cold, and on the small of her back there was a painful absence of his touch.

"It's just… I think I've had quite enough for one day," she continued, trying to sound convincing. "I'm quite tired from the strain of… well, actually _understanding _the dance. That feeling's rather new to me."

For these words she was rewarded with a small smile. "So, let's sit then," Harry said.

They made their way to the far end of the room, where a number of benches had been set up for students who wished to take a rest. Many of the benches were already occupied, mostly by Slytherins wrinkling their noses at the whole scene, but one was completely vacant, and it was this bench that Harry and Ginny sat themselves down on. For a while, they just sat silent, watching the other couples struggling to get the hang of the waltz. Then, as Ginny listened to the chattering students around them, she felt it was time to say something. But what would they talk about? Striking up a conversation was something she found hard enough as it was, but striking up a conversation with Harry Potter, right after she'd been _in his arms_, well… that demanded some serious thought. It had to sound spontaneous, light-hearted, yet serious enough to invite a response or counter-question from the other person.

"So, how come you knew the dance so well?" she finally asked, hoping it sounded appropriately out-of-the-blue. And the question wasn't just a conversation-starter, she truly wanted to know.

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. I've just always… known it, you know?"

Ginny furrowed her brow, confused. "What, from birth?"  
Harry gave a small laugh, and of course her stupid heart insisted on tingling at this. "No, not from birth. At least I don't think so. I have a vague memory of my aunt forcing me to help her practice dancing the waltz before this big wedding they were attending. I guess it just stuck."

"Why did she make _you _help her? Couldn't her husband have practised it with her, if he was going to the wedding as well?"

Harry grinned at her. "Well, let's just say that my uncle isn't the most _graceful_ of men, so to speak."

"Oh," Ginny said slowly, getting the point. She remembered how Ron had once referred to Harry's uncle as someone who was a mere pound short of being mistaken for a whale.

"Yeah. So I had to be my aunt's dancing partner, and she wouldn't let me rest until we both had gotten the steps right."

"That's harsh. How old were you?"

"Dunno. Maybe five, or six."

Ginny was truly astonished. "Five or six! And you've remembered 'til _now?_"

"I guess. As I said, it just sort of stuck."

There was a pause as they watched a group of Slytherins get told off by professors McGonnagall and Vector for not having participated at all in the day's activities. They were ushered out onto the dance-floor, looking glum. It was then that something suddenly struck Ginny, and she turned to Harry, not giving much thought to what she was about to say.

"Why did you say you thought it was silly?" she asked.

Harry looked at her with a frown, clearly bewildered. "What?"

"Why did you tell me you thought it was silly? The dancing classes?"

Harry suddenly looked rather uncomfortable. "What do you mean?"

"When we talked, earlier in the week, you said you thought the dancing classes were a rather silly idea."

"And?"

"Well, Ron said you'd told him you were sort of looking forward to it, and I thought that was a bit strange, seeing as you told _me_ you'd thought about skipping them because you didn't like the idea." Ginny hardly had time to feel embarrassed over the fact that she had practically admitted to having memorised every word of their conversation; she was just immensely curious to find out why he'd said different things to her and Ron.

Harry looked away, clearly troubled by this interrogation. "I don't know," he said. "I guess… I guess I just changed my mind."

His uncertain tone convinced Ginny there was more to it. "So does that mean you first liked the idea, then realised that it was nothing for you and started thinking it was silly?" She was aware of the fact that he must find her terribly annoying, but she just couldn't bring herself to drop it that easily. For some reason she was desperate to find out the real answer.

Clearly, Harry did indeed find her questions rather vexing. "Look, is it really that important?" he said irritably.

The annoyance in his voice almost stopped Ginny from further pursuing the matter, but only almost. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just find it a bit strange that you would change your mind so quickly, and completely."

Harry sighed in an almost defeated manner and leaned back, closing his eyes. "Okay, if you really must know…"

She wanted to clap her hands together and exclaim "I must!", but refrained from doing so, and instead watched him intently as he took a deep breath and began.

"The truth is, I _was _looking forward to the dancing classes all along. It's not like I'm this great, big fan of dancing or anything -- I mean, a lot of the time I think it's pretty stupid -- but when McGonnagall told us how we'd probably be doing a few Muggle dances, I just… I don't know. I remembered dancing the waltz with Mrs Dursley, and I remembered her telling me that it was a popular dance at weddings, and…" Here he paused to clear his throat. "And I imagined my parents. You know, at their wedding? And I just wanted to…"

He made a pause, looking almost pained, and Ginny had to fight an urge to reach out and stroke his cheek, or take him in her arms, offering her comfort.

"Anyway," he continued, clearly embarrassed at this revelation. "I thought the dancing classes seemed like fun. Then I talked to Ron, and he tried to convince me, over and over again, that it was a stupid idea, completely pointless. So I started thinking that maybe it was. Maybe I was silly to be looking forward to it. And then I met you, by the stairs…"

Ginny's stomach fluttered at the mention of their meeting. It would've been strange if he'd forgotten about it, but for some reason the fact that he remembered made her quite happy.

"And you seemed to think the idea was pretty stupid as well. So I said that I thought so too, even if I didn't really. I just didn't…" He made a pause, and shifted in his seat. When he spoke again, it was in a rather constrained voice. "I just didn't want you to think I was being stupid, for looking forward to it."

Ginny's mouth fell open. Was _that _why he'd said what he'd said to her? Because he didn't want her to think any less of him? She didn't even think he _cared _what she thought. She'd just assumed that the only reason he listened whenever she said anything was because she was Ron's little sister, someone he _had_ to put up with. And now he'd just admitted to her that he'd lied about looking forward to the dancing classes, just so she wouldn't think he was being silly.

"I…" she began, but found she couldn't say anything more. Instead, she looked out over the dance-floor at the couples still struggling to get the hang of the dance. When she stole a quick glance at Harry, she found that he was doing the same. They sat in silence, watching the students' more or less graceful attempts at dancing.

"I should go," Harry suddenly said, and Ginny turned to look at him.

"Go where?"

"Quidditch." He slowly rose from his seat. "If McGonnagall gives me leave to go, then I should get out on the field for some practice, before dinner."

"Oh," Ginny said. "Okay."

He turned to look at her, those intense, green eyes once again locking with hers. "So thanks."

"For what?"

He gave her a small smile, sending little tingles down her spine. "For the dance, of course."

"Oh. That." She looked down, then back up at him. "Thanks for teaching me. I thought I was a hopeless case."

"Well, I never thought so," he said and smiled again, making her blush. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away. Ginny followed him with her eyes as he made his way over to professor McGonnagall. After exchanging a few, quick words with the Transfiguration teacher, he walked over to the entrance doors and disappeared through them.

Ginny sighed and leaned back. Her cheeks were still burning and her heart had yet to calm down. What a day it had been! She'd woken up in panic, gone through the day's first few lessons with a knot in her stomach, managed to survive a number of complicated dances, nearly broken her partner's leg, then danced and talked and laughed with Harry, as if it were no big deal at all. She felt she had every reason to be proud of herself for surviving this day. Sure, she'd still been highly susceptible to his adorable half-smiles and wonderful… _Harry-ness_, but that wasn't all bad. As she was already aware of, getting over him would take time. And it wasn't as if she was in any hurry.

After all, it _did _feel rather nice when her heart fluttered…

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A/N: Maybe you noticed that there's no "The End" at the, well… end. That's because I'm not really sure if this is finished yet. I know I said two parts, and I was completely set on only doing two parts, but now I sort of feel like I should write a final, third part, just to tie things up. It felt like I left it all a bit too open. But I'm not really sure what to do yet… What do _you _think?


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